The Lesionnaire
by Keiko Noriko
Summary: A Mormor version of a scene of Angels in America. Inspired by the same scene performed by Andrew Scott and Dominic Cooper in the 50th Year on Stage.


**A.N.: Another Mormor story! This one is based on the small scene Andrew Scott and Dominic Cooper performed of Angels in America. If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend you do, because it's one of the most amazing things to ever exist on earth (it's on Youtube and Vimeo). So, after seeing it and crying like a baby I decided to make a Mormor version of that scene - because I hadn't suffered enough, apparently. I hope I did it justice. As always, I'd love to read your opinions on it. Also, thanks for the girls in the chat for giving me the extra incentive to write it and actually post it for the world.**

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It had been a long and stressful day. Well, more than it usually was anyway when you were the master behind the biggest criminal network ever created. And even though Jim Moriarty didn't usually care about a domestic life, as in matter of fact, he constantly avoided it, this was one of those rare occasions that he welcomed crashing on the sofa, having dinner and watching a movie before going to sleep. He lazily walked to his flat and put the key in the locker, only to find it was already open. It didn't take very long for him to realize what had happened.

He entered the apartment, locked the door and looked around but didn't find anyone. However, the briefcase on the floor was a definitive proof his assumptions were correct and he grinned happily as he searched in every room looking for his pet, who had finally come back after one month in a mission.

He called out for Moran as he entered the rooms but didn't get any response. He frowned confused, trying to understand this situation so uncommon. He finally found the man sleeping in their bed.

"Ah, kitten! I've been looking for you. Are you jetlagged?" he asked not even trying to hide his enthusiasm in seeing the other one back. He got closer and noticed that the sniper was actually awake, though he seemed spaced out to another dimension.

"Seb?" His enthusiasm quickly changed to uneasiness. He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows while the man cowered as their eyes met. Jim held his breath fearing the worse as Moran continued to cover his face. Jim sat lightly on the edge of the bed and touched the blond man's arm carefully.

The man quickly avoided the touch and rubbed his eyes. Then, he sighed deeply before moving to sit on the bed next to the consulting criminal.

"Hey babe," he said quietly with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "How was work?" He asked as his hand touched the boss' arm in an absent caress. Jim didn't answer. Instead, he kept looking at the man in front of him, trying to read what had happened and what he was about to tell. Then, as the sniper noticed he wouldn't be able to stall this any longer, he pulled his shirt up to chest height, giving Jim a clear view of the wine-dark spot under his ribcage.

"See it?" he asked.

"That's your war wound," Jim replied impatiently. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, though, he already sensed where the conversation was leading.

"Not according to the best medical authorities," the other one contradicted shaking his head and glancing at the man by his side.

"What?" Moriarty asked with his eyes locked on Sebastian's. "Say it." He demanded, almost shouted, as his anxiety built.

"K.S., babe," Sebastian said, confirming his assumptions. The other one just looked at him without saying anything. "Lesion number one," the blond man continued as the lack of response started to frighten him. "Lookit. The wine-dark kiss of the angel of death," his voice failed and he looked down.

"Oh please," Jim begged, wrapping his hands around his lover's arm.

"I'm a lesionnaire," the sniper smirked weakly at his own wordplay and looked at the other one, whose only response was to grab more tightly to his arm. "Lesionnaire's disease."

"Stop it," Jim frowned un-amused and pulled the man's arm to make his point.

"My troubles are lesion," he continued with a chuckle and a dull grin on his face.

"Will you stop?" the dark haired man said rispdly.

"Don't you think I'm handling this well?" Sebastian asked leaning over to the man by his side and whispering into his ear "I'm going to die."

"Everybody is," Jim retorted and shook his head as his hands continued to pull Sebastian's arm closer to him.

"Let go of my arm," Moran asked and gently pushed Jim to the opposite direction. But the man didn't respond. "Let go," he insisted, and the consulting criminal finally let him go, only to rub his own temples compulsively. The blond man watched him as he softly rocked back and forth on the edge of the bad, apparently trying to absorb all that new information. The sniper gently placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I can't find a way to spare you, babe," he confessed quietly. "No wall like the wall of hard scientific fact..."

"Oh, fuck you," he yelled and moved a little further away from the man he had been clinging only a few seconds earlier. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you."

"Now, that's what I like to hear: a mature reaction," Moran said mockingly. Jim slowly seemed to calm down a little, but then, another thought came into his mind.

"When did you find this?" he asked and his eyes and shaky voice betrayed his strong attempts to hold back his tears. He could see Moran shaking his legs as he took a while to respond, also becoming unable to hold back his own tears.

"I was scared," he said quietly, not looking in Jim's eyes and focusing on pulling out the barely existing lint on his pants.

"Of what?" Jim shook his head incredulously.

"That you'll leave me," Moran confessed. But as he looked into Jim's eyes, he could see the other one was avoiding his gaze. Jim let out a small interjection of comprehension. Neither said anything for a few seconds, which started to feel like hours.

"Bad timing, with the trial and all, but I figured…" Sebastian started.

"I have to go back to the office," Jim cut him off, abruptly getting out of the bed and ready to leave.

"Jim?" he called surprised and the dark haired man turned to him with an unreadable expression. "Then you'll come home?" he asked as a last plea to confirm or deny his worst fears.

"Then I'll come home," he nodded absently before leaving the bedroom without ever looking back.


End file.
